


There is a Reason He's Called Three Continents Watson

by astudyinfic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinfic/pseuds/astudyinfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six 221B fics:  John Watson is attractive to everyone.  Sherlock is jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is a Reason He's Called Three Continents Watson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Batik96](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Batik96).



> Sherlock Secret Santa gift for Batik96. Happy Holidays!

John wasn’t answering his texts.  He left for Tesco’s an hour ago.  All they needed was laundry detergent and batteries.  It shouldn’t take this long. 

After pacing for 10 minutes, Sherlock grabbed his mobile and dialed his flatmate. 

“John,” he answered after the first ring.

Glaring at the smiley on the wall, Sherlock demanded, “Where are you?”

“At Tesco’s.  I’ll be home soon,” he answered, before continuing to someone who was obviously not Sherlock, “No, it’s my flatmate.  He’s a bit demanding.”

“I heard that John,” Sherlock growled, but John was still ignoring him.  A woman’s voice laughed airly and he heard her say, “Oh good.  I was worried for a moment.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed.  John was picking up women at the store, when he was supposed to be getting Sherlock experimental supplies.  “John Watson, stop talking to her and get home.  I need my things.”

“You can wait 10 more minutes, Sherlock.”  The conversation on the other side of the line continued as Sherlock’s grip threatened to snap his phone in half.  John should be here at the flat not talking to a random girl in the produce aisle. 

More airy laughter followed by, “Here is my number.  Call me.” 

“I will,” he heard John say. 

Sherlock slammed the phone down in disgust after telling John, “Don’t forget the batteries.”

~ ~ ~

After spending the evening in his mind palace, Sherlock was certain he wasn’t jealous.  He just needed John’s attention on him and not some random person.  It was better for the work.   Yes, it was best for the work if John remained single.

That morning found the experiment bubbling away on the cooktop, fire extinguisher at the ready by John as he stumbled bleary eyed to the kettle.  Sherlock groaned as footsteps echoed up the stairs, and John -still in his dressing gown, pants and tshirt- turned just in time to see Mycroft appear in the doorway.

“Sherlock.  Dr. Watson.  I trust you are well this morning.”  Sherlock noticed Mycroft’s eyes linger a bit longer than normal on John’s exposed legs. 

“Fine, yes.  Tea, Mycroft?” John asked, turning back to the kettle. 

“No, thank you John.  I just came by to ask for Sherlock’s help with a little matter.”

Without turning from his experiment, which was starting to turn an unusual shade of orange, Sherlock responded, “Not interested.”

“Well, perhaps, John, you might be able to help me out?”  Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock saw Mycroft place his hand on John’s shoulder.

“GET OUT!” he bellowed, watching Mycroft make a hasty retreat.

“No!” Sherlock said, turning to John, who for his part was just baffled.  “Not my brother.”

~ ~ ~

Going to the morgue three days before Christmas is not a typical idea of a good time, but when you are flatmates with Sherlock Holmes you learn to roll with the punches.  A new case had popped up and Molly was holding the body so Sherlock could examine it before it was released to the family for services. 

Sherlock got right to work when they arrived barely even pausing to greet Molly as he barreled past.  John stepped in and smiled warmly at the mousy pathologist.  Smiling back, she pushed a bit of hair out of her face before asking, “Some coffee, John?”

“Yes, please.  Thank you, Molly.” 

Glancing in Sherlock’s direction, “Do you think he will want some too?”

John shook his head, “Doubt it.  He’s been in a mood for the last couple days.  Best not to bother him.”

She nodded and ran off to get the cups.  John sat back and considered Sherlock.  The man had been acting odd.  The conversation on the phone.  The yelling at Mycroft, at least yelling more forcefully than normal.  Something was up. 

When Molly returned, John took the cup from her, his fingers brushing her’s in the process.  She giggled slightly, turning to hide the blush on her cheeks.  

Sherlock turned towards the noise.  “Oh come ON!  You too, Molly?” he bellowed.

~ ~ ~

Lestrade had texted that morning with a double homicide-suicide which seemed straight forward enough.  However they couldn’t find the murder weapon.  Sherlock had rolled his eyes at their incompetence but yelled for John to get ready anyway.  Now they were at a house surrounded by three dead bodies, Greg, and Sergeant Donovan.  Sherlock quickly got to work, while John looked on, silent save for an occasional “Brilliant!” which caused Sherlock to preen internally.

He became engrossed in what turned out to be a more interesting case than he anticipated; John and the Scotland Yard staff faded into the background.  At one point, his attention was pulled back forcefully when he heard an uncharacteristic giggle that most certainly was not from John.

“John, why don’t you ditch the freak and we could go get coffee after this?”  Sherlock glared at her hand on John’s arm and his friend who looked very uncomfortable with it. 

Growling under his breath, he attracted John’s notice.  He watched as understanding dawned in his eyes and his mouth formed an O.

“John, why do you even hang around him?  You could do so much better,” Sally said as John continued to look at Sherlock. 

“He’s my best mate.  That’s why.  Sherlock, are we almost done here?”  Sherlock nodded, grateful.  Turning back to Sally, John said simply, “Bye.”

~ ~ ~

Sherlock finished up as quickly as possible before making his way out to the street where John was hopefully waiting with the cab.  But instead of a hansom, John was talking to Anderson.  ANDERSON.  For Christ’s sake.  This has gone too far. 

“Do you know Sally won’t even talk to me anymore?  Ever since the freak outed us, she won’t come near me.  You know how it is, being around Sherlock all the time.  I bet people are afraid to come near you too.”  Sherlock watched John’s eyebrows reach towards his hair line, an incredulous look all over his face.  Anderson, oblivious, continued, “We should get a drink sometime, John.  It would be nice to be with someone who understood.”

Sherlock could take no more, crossing the space between them in three steps.  Grabbing John’s face, he looked into his eyes and seeing the mischievous twinkle, bent forward capturing his lips in a kiss.  John brought his hand up to grasp at Sherlock’s shirt, holding him close.  Sherlock started when John’s tongue darted out to lick at the seam of his lips.  Parting them slightly, the kiss deepened and Sherlock pulled John flush against him.

As they broke apart, John’s face was happier than Sherlock had ever seen.  “Took you long enough.  And I thought you were supposed to be brilliant.”

~ ~ ~

The cab ride home was tense.  John’s mind was buzzing and he could see from the corner of his eye Sherlock was clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly.  Neither looked at the other, just continued staring straight ahead.  Time slowed to a crawl as they waited through every red light.  

Finally, finally they arrived at 221B.  The blood rushed in John’s ears and the next day he could not tell you who paid the cabbie or even if they did. 

What he can tell you is that they did make it up the stairs before falling together.  Clothes ended up scattered throughout the flat.  In Sherlock’s room they toppled into the roomy bed. 

It was new for both of them, Sherlock the virgin and John ‘not-gay’ Watson, but they quickly figured things out.  In the back of John’s mind he realized he should be panicking, but he had been pining for Sherlock for too long to worry about that now.

The moment their cocks lined up for the first time, both men gasped into the other’s mouth.  As he slowly reduced Sherlock to a quivering mass of need beneath him, John felt his confidence soar and by the time he took Sherlock in his mouth he realized that there would be no more women.  After Sherlock, there was no going back.

 


End file.
